


Hakuouki: Saitou, Chizuru, & Friends

by Impracticaldemon



Category: Hakuouki
Genre: F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-04-17 12:57:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14189442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impracticaldemon/pseuds/Impracticaldemon
Summary: In the aftermath of Toba-Fushimi, Saito has far too much to do to pay attention to a Fury's painful aversion to sunlight.  Unfortunately, Chizuru decides to take matters into her own hands in order to find a cure.  Saito's POV, not just a retelling or AU of this portion of the original story.





	1. The Ghost

 

* * *

**Author's Note:**  This was intended to be another ~ 500 word drabble to get people enthused about next month's SaiChi fanworks event on tumblr. It morphed into something all its own, and I was unable to put it down until it was done. I blame Souma Kazue's route from Edo Blossoms for the angst.

_**A teaser-trailer for SaiChiFest 2018 that turned into a feature presentation.** _

With gratitude to CanadianGAAP, DancesWithSeatbelts (Nalufever / Hakufever) and ShellSenji, who have been nudging me along to get me writing again.

~ Imp

* * *

**The Ghost**

* * *

The mood at Doctor Matsumoto's clinic had been sombre since Okita's death from tuberculosis, and that had been two years ago now. Then again, all of the news in the year following had told of disaster upon disaster for the Shinsengumi and what remained of the former Shogunate allies. When the hideous details of Aizu's fall and ruin had been brought to them, Chizuru's brave smile had disappeared for good, although her tireless care of the clinic's patients—men and women ravaged by disease and war—had not wavered.

Doctor Matsumoto might have wondered at Chizuru's barely contained grief for the fate of the Aizu, which had seemed at least as immediate and personal as it had been at Okita's passing, but for the letter that he'd received from Hijikata Toshizō, then Chief of the Shinsengumi, not long after Chizuru had first arrived at the clinic:

_Matsumoto-sensei,_

_I write to you in confidence, and send this by way of one of my own men. As you know, our situation is difficult and only likely to worsen._

_Consequently, I commend Yukimura Chizuru-san to your care, as it is neither appropriate nor safe—if such a word still has meaning—for her to remain with us in Sendai. I know that you will be kind to her, both on behalf of the Shinsengumi, and for her own sake._

_I have decided to advise you of one personal matter in case the worst comes to pass and Aizu is overrun. I have reason to believe that Yukimura has developed a strong affection for Saitō Hajime, as unlikely as that might seem. She begged to accompany him to Aizu, when he announced his intention of remaining with the Aizu warriors until the end. In an effort to spare her life, Saitō rejected her request and ordered her to accompany me further North. He phrased his dismissal in the coldest possible terms, no doubt to ensure her compliance. I mention all of this only because the girl has an overly-sensitive heart, and I am not convinced that Saitō's words were sufficient to change her feelings for him._

_It is no doubt ridiculous to trouble you with such things at a time like this, but Kondō always worried about Yukimura's future—you know how he was—and in a sense I am writing to you on his behalf. He and Yukimura were not unalike in the way that they cared about others. I do not know if this information will be of any use to you if and when the blow falls, but it is rare for too much information to be worse than too little._

_With regards and sincere thanks for all that you have done and continue to do,_

_Hijikata Toshizō, Chief_

The doctor had shared the letter with his wife, but while the latter had been very sympathetic toward Chizuru, she had had her own family to worry about and the times were indeed full of sorrow for many. Thus, while Chizuru was well cared for, and her assistance at the clinic truly valued, there was nobody close with whom to share her sorrow, whether it was for Saitō in particular, or for the Shinsengumi warriors as a whole. The war had ended almost a year ago, and that was that, except for a lingering sadness in the household that had yet to give way to renewed hope for the future.

* * *

Chizuru had finished her work for the day when the unexpected visitor arrived. Although she was seated by a brazier on the house's front porch, she did not see him approach, nor did she sense him standing at the gate, seemingly transfixed by the ordinary sight of a slight young woman preoccupied by the mundane chore of preparing vegetables for the evening meal. The man was very thin, and noticeably pale under his straw travelling hat, but despite the appearance of ill-health, he didn't seem to notice either the drizzling rain or the sharp bite of early winter.

" _Shitsureisimasu_ ," he said at last, his voice barely carrying over the hiss of the wind and rain.

Chizuru looked up, visibly startled out of her thoughts. She set down her work and rose, bowing politely. Doctor Matsumoto's wife had always approved of her manners, except for her habit of being at times too courteous to the lowest classes. The only thing to be clearly discerned about the present visitor was that he carried a  _katana_ , which was troubling given the new government's strict regulations about owning—let alone using—swords and firearms.

"How may I help you, sir?" Chizuru found her eyes straying almost compulsively to the longsword. Swords failed to intimidate her the way they did others, although she was not fond of them either. But this feeling was something else altogether, a sense of both wrongness and déjà vu all at once.

"… I came to find Matsumoto-sensei. Is this his residence?"

"Yes. Are you ill, or injured? We are no longer seeing patients today, but Doctor Matsumoto sometimes"— _often_ —"makes exceptions. May I know your name?"

Even as she asked she knew the answer. Some part of her mind had even known from the beginning. But there had been too many nights of hoping against hope, and dreams that turned to ash when she woke up and had to face the day. Was she so pathetic that now her delusions existed in the daytime as well? She felt fear rising in the place of what should be—perhaps—maybe—a more positive emotion.

The stranger who might not be a stranger didn't move or speak; he seemed frozen to the spot. One hand lay passive along the top of the gate, but the other had dropped to brush against the hilt of his sword. It wasn't a threatening gesture; instead, it suggested uncertainty, or even anxiety. Chizuru fought the urge to run indoors and hide, overcome by the need to escape this… this ghost. She had never seen another man wear his sword on his right hip, not even before swords had been outlawed for all but a few. This man was dead, killed in action on the blood-drenched fields of what had once been the Aizu domain. Doctor Matsumoto had been kind, but very clear: Saitō Hajime of the Shinsengumi had died, and there was no room for hope.

Even as Chizuru stood poised on the verge of irrational flight, the ghost spoke:

"Yukimura…  _Īe_ — _sumimasen_ —Yukimura-san?"  **(1)**

"You're dead." There, she'd said it, denying his living existence as firmly as possible.  _I wonder if his ghost has eyes of the same dark blue as the summer sky after dusk? Not that it matters, but still…_  Despite everything, Chizuru felt a flicker of something like curiosity. Curiosity could be admitted—it wasn't hope.

"…  _Īe._ "

After a moment, the straw hat was tilted back, so that Chizuru could make out more than just the chin beneath. She pressed her hands to her mouth, willing back a renewed impulse to panic. He was too far away, and the light too dim for her to see the colour of his eyes. But the face was familiar in every line, despite being so gaunt as to make her wince. Her feet betrayed her by moving down the steps and away from the shelter of the porch.

"They told me that you were dead."

"… Ah."

"You sent me away. Why did you come here?"

"Yukimura… -san. I was imprisoned; I came here as soon as I was released."

"Why?"

There was a very long pause, and Chizuru found herself digging her nails into the palms of her hands. Finally, the apparition seem to make up its—or his—mind about what to say.

"I heard rumours that Nagakura was still alive and thought that Doctor Matsumoto might know where he had taken refuge."

"I missed you. You sent me away, and then you died—and then everyone else died too. Even Hijikata-san." Was she being irrational? She had a strong suspicion that she was. When had she started trembling?

"…I am not dead, Yukimura-san."

Now that she was closer, she could see that the dark kimono he wore hung far too loosely about him. It also emphasized his pallor, and heightened the ghostly effect. Or maybe that was just her own perception.

"They told me that you were confirmed dead, Saitō-san." There, she'd said it. It was painful though.

"According to the official records, I was declared missing in action. There were rumours about my death, however." Saitō hesitated, and then said, "You should go back to the  _engawa_  out of the rain, Yukimura-san—you are shivering with cold and your clothes have gotten wet."

"If I turn my back, then you will go away, and I've missed you so much already."

The gate opened with a quiet click, and then closed again.

"I am not a ghost—I have feet."  **(2)** Saitō was holding his hat in one hand now, and his hair was rapidly darkening from indigo to black in the rain.

"Nagakura-san said that," Chizuru commented mechanically, remembering the burly captain's valiant attempt at humour in the face of the loss of most of his men during the Battle of Toba-Fushimi. Her thoughts veered back to the present. She really shouldn't be making Saitō-san stand outside in this weather, yet she seemed unable to behave like her usual self at all.

"I remember. Perhaps…" Saitō studied her carefully before continuing in his usual, uninflected voice: "Do you wish to hold my hand?" His eyes widened when Chizuru stepped back in obvious consternation, but he persevered. "It might help you to believe that I am here, that is all. It seemed to reassure you once before."

"That was a dream. I've had enough of dreams. It hurts when I wake up."

Despite her words, Chizuru gingerly extended one hand. To her surprise, it was immediately taken in a firm, warm, apparently human grasp. Her eyes flew up to the familiar face above hers, which suddenly became difficult to make out because—she was weeping. Uncontrollable sobs shook her body, and she was gasping for air. Mortified, she said the first thing that came to mind.

"You sh-should get out of the c-cold. You look exhausted, as u-usual,  _and_  half-starved… And, and, you've d-dropped your hat in the m-mud."

Without a flicker of expression, Saitō nodded. "I will pick up my hat and then we can both go to stand by the brazier on the  _engawa_." He immediately put his words into action, one hand still tightly clasped around Chizuru's.

Within a minute, Chizuru found herself huddled by the brazier, her eyes flicking between the glowing coals and Saitō-san, whose presence still frightened her for the hope that she could feel building within her. They both needed to get inside, but she wasn't quite ready for that yet. What if he disappeared at the door, unable to remain in the realm of the living against the vehement denials of her current guardian? Worse—no, not worse, that was ridiculous—what if he were somehow real, but only comforting her now out of his usual sense of responsibility? If that were the case, he would hand her back over to Doctor Matsumoto as soon as they entered the house, and then leave again on his search for Nagakura-san. What if even friendship was beyond her grasp?

"Are you feeling better? I regret having startled you."

The understatement almost made Chizuru laugh, but she bit her lip to avoid looking even more foolish than she had already. What if it really  _was_  Saitō-san and he  _wasn't_  going to abandon her again? He might not care for her in the way that she wanted—that had never been more than a wistful dream even before his harsh words to her in Aizu—but it would be more than enough if he would just let her travel with him again. She was quite a good cook, and much better versed in medical knowledge than she had been. She could probably even support herself, more or less, by offering her medical services.

"Yukimura-san?"

Chizuru blinked. What was she thinking? She'd told him that he was dead! This was not how she had imagined it would be during those moments—much rarer now—when she had daydreamed about finding him alive somehow.

" _Gomenasai_ , Saitō-san! I w-was rather, um, startled, just as you say. I'll show you inside now, if you like?" She tried to recover her hand, but Saitō's fingers were too tight about hers to do so unobtrusively. He was staring at her intently, and she wondered what he saw, or was looking for. She hoped it wouldn't take much longer, because she could still feel tears prickling at her eyes, and her emotions were a tangled mess. She desperately wanted to appear more calm than she really was. Without realizing what she was doing, she brushed Saitō's cheek with her fingertips.

_War and loss and imprisonment may have taken their toll, but your beloved face is everything to me, Saitō-san. I just didn't know that the return of hope could be as terrifying as its loss._

"You should return indoors as soon as possible," Saitō said quietly, releasing her hand. "However, it is clear that I have caused you grave anxiety."

_I was terrified for you. I was distraught when they told me you were dead._  Chizuru could only swallow and nod nervously.

"Also," Saitō cleared his throat, "I must apologize for what I said to you… before asking you to go with Hijikata-san."

_You called me a burden that would only slow you down and get you killed. You were as cruel as Okita-san ever was during my first months with the Shinsengumi. No, worse, because his words were never as cold and precise as yours. You said everything you could to make me hate you, and sometimes I've wished it had worked._

Chizuru tried to keep her feelings off her face, and knew she had failed. Saitō-san and Okita-san—and Harada-san, and, of course, Hijikata-san—had always been able to see right through her. She'd been grateful for Heisuke-kun's tendency to take her at face value—it had been reassuring.

"I regret my words. Please forgive me." Saitō bowed deeply, leaving Chizuru speechless. "I did not have the skill necessary to dissuade you less roughly. It is clear that I injured you even more than I had thought."

"Saitō-san…" Chizuru drew a deep breath to steady her nerves. "Please—please don't bow to me. Just tell me, if it's okay… Why did you send me away?" She heard her voice break, and tried to compose herself to hear the answer with some vestige of equanimity.

Saitō straightened as she requested, but his eyes were fixed on the ground and his answer came slowly—so slowly that it seemed he would refuse to answer at all. "… I could not bear to see you die. The people of Aizu were destined to suffer the worst of the horrors of war, because the Imperial Army sought revenge, not just victory."

For the first time in more than two years, Chizuru felt a measure of peace. She was unutterably relieved, as wrong as that seemed in the circumstances. Saitō-san hadn't pushed her away because she was a burden to him; rather, he'd cared enough to want to protect her.

When Chizuru didn't respond, Saitō glanced up, lips compressed. "It seemed to me—no matter how unlikely—that you..." He trailed off and tried again. "I was… not quite prepared… for you to prefer the misery of war in Aizu with me over remaining with Hijikata-san in comparative safety. It suggested that you cared more about… my future… than was either reasonable or safe."

Chizuru stared at him, feeling a faint blush rise to her cheeks. She scrubbed at her eyes to keep the tears at bay and squared her shoulders.

"Saitō-san, I'm sorry that I didn't give you the welcome you deserve—"

"There is no need for you to apologize, Yukimura."

"Please, Saitō-san, please—don't leave me here. I will try not to be a burden. They are very kind here, but they don't understand. About the Shinsengumi, I mean. Not really. And—"

"Yukimura—" Saitō's voice sounded oddly strained, but that just made Chizuru hurry to get all the words out faster, before he could tell her again that she would be better off, or safer, or some other meaningless thing, away from his side.

"But I need to tell you!"

"I already understand." Saitō reached out as he had once before—years ago now—and pulled her against his chest and shoulder. Chizuru went unresisting, heedless of the wet kimono under her cheek. "At least—I don't really understand why you still wish to be with me, but I understand that you do."

"You won't leave me?"

"Correct. Also…" Saitō tightened his arms around the shivering girl—woman—and forced himself to complete his sentence. "I don't want to."

* * *

Doctor Matsumoto found them there on the porch when he returned from visiting one of his regular patients. He was through the gate and most of the way to the house before he was drawn up short by the sight of Chizuru-chan in the arms of a strange man. His first surprised indignation was instantly replaced by shock when the man turned his head to meet the doctor's gaze.

"Saitō-kun?!" The calm blue eyes and slightly pointed features were unmistakable. He was currently more thin than lean, and his impassive features seemed older than they should be, but he was obviously alive and apparently uninjured. "That is—Saitō-san?" The man had commanded both the Shinsengumi and mixed Shinsengumi-Aizu forces in Aizu, and was known to have the personal respect of Lord Matsudaira of Aizu himself; he surely deserved to be addressed as an equal despite his actual age.  **(3)**

Doctor Matsumoto hurried up the steps to the  _engawa_  in order to get a better look at the unexpected—very unexpected!—visitor. He saw Chizuru stir slightly in Saitō's hold, but it was obvious that she was in some distress, and not quite prepared to face another person at this moment.

" _Konbanwa_ , Matsumoto- _sensei_. I hope that you are well."

"Yes, yes I am—but you! They told us that you had gone missing and were presumed dead!"

"The Aizu were kind enough to shelter me with their name so that I would be imprisoned rather than killed. I assume that the rumours of my death were circulated in order to safeguard my identity."

At last, Chizuru turned to face her unofficial guardian and mentor, although she stayed very close to Saitō. Her eyes were red and swollen, and her expression was difficult to read.

" _Sumimasen_ , Matsumoto-sensei," she murmured, almost too quietly to hear.

"No, no, there is no problem—of course you would be overwhelmed, my dear…" The doctor collected himself and took in the pair's wet clothes. "The  _engawa_  isn't too bad, I suppose, with a few rugs and a brazier"—his voice clearly expressed disapproval of the arrangement—"but you really shouldn't be out here on a day like this. Saitō-san, Chizuru-chan, please come inside with me."

Some kind of unspoken communication seemed to pass between the two, and then Chizuru nodded. "We will be right in, I promise. Oh!" The cry of consternation seemed to be aimed at the half-prepared vegetables. "I said I would finish these…"

Saitō put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. "We will finish them as soon as we go in."

"But Saitō-san!"

"We will be in very shortly, Matsumoto- _sensei_."

"Very well. But please tell, me Saitō-san… Why are you here?"

"I came to make sure that Yukimura-san was well," replied Saitō, without discernible hesitation. "And to find out whether you had any news about Nagakura's whereabouts."

"Mmm." The doctor's eyes narrowed thoughtfully, then he smiled. "I will leave you to work out the answer to the first question yourself. As for the second—yes, I may have something for you. Come in when you're ready—but don't wait too long."

When they were alone again, Chizuru slipped her hand shyly into Saitō's. "I think I can face everyone again now—at least, once I've tidied myself a bit."

"I see."

"I am very happy to see you, Saitō-san."

"Yes—I mean, I am very pleased to see you as well, Yukimura."

Saitō seemed to debate for a minute within himself, and then he carefully cupped Chizuru's face with his free hand. She gave him an inquiring look, but there was no longer any fear in her soft brown eyes. The shadows of grief and loss would take a long time to dispel, but…

Saitō bent his head to kiss Chizuru's lips. Sometime later, they went into the house.

* * *

**Notes:**

**(1)** No (that's not right) - sorry [Saitou had always referred to Chizuru as Yukimura because she had taken on the role of a junior subordinate; however, outside the Shinsengumi, Yukimura-san is more appropriate.

**(2)** In traditional Japanese mythology ghosts have no feet. (See Nagakura's comment during the battle of Toba-Fushimi.)

**(3)**  Saitou joined the Roshigumi (precursor to the Shinsengumi) at age 19. This means that he was only about 24 years old during the Boshin War. (He would be about 25 in this story.)

* * *

**A/Note:**  Please let me know what you think if you get the chance! The setting is canon-esque AU, if you understand what I mean.


	2. Reassurance

**Author's Note: This piece was written as a short sequel to _The Ghost_.**

Anxiety isn't easily overcome. Unfortunately, Saitou isn't the best at verbal reassurance, nor does he provide much in the way of non-verbal cues. Fortunately, he's very fond of Yukimura and apparently willing to learn and improve.

~  _Impracticaldemon_

* * *

**Reassurance**

* * *

Dinner was something of a strain for Saitō and Chizuru. Doctor Matsumoto had many questions for Saitō—who almost certainly found the attention oppressive—and the doctor's wife was by turns too respectful and too wary of their thin, plainly-dressed guest. However, by the end of the meal, both the doctor and his lady had noted the fatigue on Saitō's face and the anxiety in Chizuru's eyes, and not only was the meal concluded in good time and with good grace, but Chizuru was absolved of the need to clean up and help with the dishes.

"We'll speak more tomorrow, Saitō-san," the doctor said amiably. "You won't admit it—none of you ever would!—but you're just waiting to fall over. Chizuru-chan will show you to your room."

Saitō murmured a polite thanks and rose, Chizuru following suit. If Matsumoto-san was surprised that her husband had asked Chizuru, a young woman of whom he was very fond, to escort a man of Saitō's blood-stained reputation to his room, then she was far too well-bred to comment. Besides, it was a sweet, romantic kind of tale.

Chizuru, for her part, had been restless throughout dinner. She was still torn between happiness, and fear of being too happy, and uncertainty about the meaning of the kiss shared before dinner. Anxiety was foremost in her mind as she automatically guided Saitō down the short hallway and around the corner to the guest room.

"If you give me a moment, I will set out the bedding for you, Saitō-san."

"There is no need."

Chizuru stared at him, willing herself not to cry. Then… earlier—outside—the kiss—what he had said… had she misunderstood? Or was it simply that he wanted some time to himself right now?

Correctly interpreting her expression, Saitō became a little flustered. "Ah—no—Yukimura-san… I didn't mean it that way. I just meant that it would be no trouble for me to set up the futon myself. There is no need to trouble yourself on my account."

The young woman—she didn't realize how unnerving and  _distracting_  it was to see her in her neat women's clothing—suddenly looked less forlorn and more angry.

"I've waited for you for over two years, Saitō-san! What if I  _want_  to trouble myself? Don't I get a choice?"

Taken aback, Saitō could only repeat her words back to her. "You want to trouble yourself? I don't understand."

"Obviously not!" snapped Chizuru. "You just want to c-come back from the dead and have everything go back to being the same, but that's not possible!"

Apparently bewildered, Saitō said nothing.

"I'm twenty-one now, Saitō-san. And I'm a competent nurse  _and_  a good cook  _and_  I can look after a house, too!"

"Yes?"

"So there's no reason for you to send me away, or, or to refuse to let me come with you. You're going to Edo— _gomen_ , Tokyo—and thanks to Matsumoto- _sensei_  I still own my father's—my foster father's—house there. And I still have most of the money that K-Kondō-san gave me—Hijikata-san refused to take it—so I'm sure I can fix up the house and then—"

Saitō put his hands on Chizuru's shoulders. A strange idea was forming in his mind.

"Are you asking me to"— _to marry you? No, that sounded all wrong—_ "to live with you in Tokyo?"

Chizuru stared at him, shocked out of her fit of anxiety-induced frustration. She could feel the flush start to spread across her cheeks and creep up into the tips of her ears.

"Ah! N-no? I mean yes, if you want? I was being terribly forward, I am so sorry—"

"Why are you apologizing? You have done nothing wrong." Saitō swallowed, and tried to express some of the thoughts he'd had over the past two years. "I was not clear earlier." His hands tightened a little on Chizuru's shoulders, as though trying to communicate ideas that weren't easy for him to say out loud.

Chizuru continued to look up at him, although she was still very embarrassed by her outburst. When Saitō didn't speak, she said tentatively, "You don't want to let me go?"

"That is correct. I would have—no, should have—said something sooner, but…" He'd still been putting his thoughts in order after dinner. Determined, now, he pressed on. "Will you come with me to Tokyo?" When she didn't respond immediately, he added, "It might not be as comfortable as staying here, but I am not entirely without resources."

"…Resources?"

"Yes—letters of introduction from good men, who believe that I will have no difficulty finding work within the new government. And enough money to travel without, ah, without having to count every coin." He wanted to say,  _Without having to spend what Kondō-san gave you for yourself!_ , but she might not understand.

"Oh, of course."

They spent several minutes—or at least it seemed that long—caught up in trying to figure out what the other person wanted to hear. Then Chizuru reminded herself that Saitō had asked an important question, and was probably waiting for her response, and fretting over it (not that one could tell).

"Saitō-san?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for asking me to come to Tokyo with you. I want to go with you very much. You can decide later if we should stay in my old house or not." Chizuru's hands were clasped in front of her, and she put everything she could into convincing him of her sincerity.

Saitō looked very relieved. Then he reddened a little. "… Do you mind if I…" He moved forward, so that his arms were wrapped loosely around Chizuru's shoulders. "Ah...Is it okay if..."

With sudden recklessness, and a need to show Saitō how she felt, Chizuru rose on her toes slightly to close the distance between them, pressing her lips against his. It wasn't a perfectly successful kiss—since Saitō rocked back on his heels in surprise—but it served its purpose. A moment later, he'd evidently decided that she  _didn't mind_ , and this time there was far less reserve than he'd shown earlier. She had no experience with passionate kisses, but this one seemed very good to her, and she felt her lips part hungrily and her breath catch. Instead of giving in to either shyness or embarrassment, she wrapped her arms as tightly around Saitō as she could, determined to make herself as clear as she could, no matter what.

Eventually, they needed to breathe. They were both flushed, and even Saitō seemed a little giddy. He was smiling broadly—almost grinning. It sat oddly on his usually impassive features, but Chizuru felt an upsurge of affection—of love—at seeing it. "Satisfactory," she murmured, using one of Saitō's favourite expressions from the past.

"Yukimura?" The smile vanished, and the dark blue eyes suddenly betrayed uncertainty.

"Nothing…"

"I wasn't going to say that."

"Was it  _not_  satisfactory?" she teased.  _Wait—am I really teasing Saitō-san?_

To Chizuru's relief, he took her mild joke in good part, and without the absolute—though endearing!—seriousness that had sometimes made him seem unapproachable before. For all of that, his response was heartfelt.

"It was wonderful. Thank you."

**[END]**


	3. Fear and Courage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of Toba-Fushimi, Saito has far too much to do to pay attention to a Fury's painful aversion to sunlight. Unfortunately, Chizuru decides to take matters into her own hands in order to find a cure. Saito's POV, not just a retelling or AU of this portion of the original story.

**A/Note:** Written for SaiChiFest 2018

* * *

**Part I—Fear and Courage  
Day 1 Prompt: Courage**

* * *

The pain had gotten worse lately, but that was inevitable. Heisuke had warned him that this would happen, and had finally given up telling him to sleep through at least part of the day. The other man—the other  _fury_ —had a good heart, and Saitō endured his concern because he knew it to be genuine and based on painful personal experience. If Heisuke had stopped repeating his advice, it was through respect for Saitō's decision, not because he didn't care. Saitō had chosen to ignore his comrade's not-so-quiet "stubborn idiot".

Saitō scrubbed away sweat and went back to his correspondence. In fact, it was Hijikata-san's correspondence, but the Vice Commander was already working day and night, as he tried to compensate for Kondō-san's absence and the lack of new orders—or any kind of plan—from the Shogunate government. On top of his duties as  _kenjutsu_  instructor, and sorting and responding to the Shinsengumi's official mail on behalf of Hijikata-san, Saitō was also tasked with checking up on the many wounded from the Battle of Toba-Fushimi, and—

"Saitō-san? I have tea for you, and a snack."

And guarding Yukimura. The Vice Commander had never rescinded his order to protect the girl; consequently, it remained Saitō's clear duty to do so. It wasn't easy to work through the day, but at least he was available should danger arise.

"Saitō-san?"

Saitō started, and nodded to the floor beside him.

"Please set the tray there, Yukimura."

He sensed hesitation, and glanced over his shoulder. She was frowning, and it occurred to him that she might have noticed how little he was sleeping. She persisted in thinking that she had an obligation to concern herself with his welfare. It was odd, and he preferred not to acknowledge that he found it more comfort than irritation.

It was about two hours later when Saitō went in search of an awl and string so that he could compile some of the paperwork. Something was bothering him, and it only took a moment's thought to realize that he hadn't seen Yukimura since she'd brought the tea and snack. A swift tour of the part of their current headquarters that housed the both the captains and Yukimura came up empty. Likewise, a search of the kitchen and other obvious locations. It was almost unthinkable that Yukimura would have gone out unaccompanied into Edo at a time like this, but Saitō was forced to conclude that she had. A practical man, he set aside his first, disbelieving anger, considered the possibilities, and realized that she was almost certainly at her old home. But why? No—first he had to get there, then he could ask why. He couldn't quite ignore a sudden—no doubt excessive—rush of fear for her safety, but he did his best. Such emotions were unproductive.

It wasn't until he was at the gate of the compound—a hatamoto's Edo residence—that he discovered just how painful it would be to travel under the full glare of the sun. To Saitō's newly-sensitive eyes and skin, the world was bathed in heat and white fire. Yesterday's continuous dull ache, which had been worse again this morning, flared into something that even Saitō could not easily dismiss. Nonetheless, orders were orders, and Yukimura had to be found and retrieved. …Or possibly rescued from whatever new scrape into which she had fallen. It annoyed him to discover that his fear for Yukimura's safety only made it more difficult to contain his anger that she had left the protection of Shinsengumi headquarters.

The sunlight was  _unpleasant_ , but only one course of action was consistent with honour.  _And inclination_ , whispered the traitorous inner voice that sometimes hinted darkly at feelings beyond simple approval of Yukimura's courage and compassion. With a flinch that was no more than a tightening of stressed muscles, Saitō spent a moment adjusting to the merciless sun, and then hastened into the busy city.

**[END]**


	4. An Officer and a Gentleman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saito finally catches up to Chizuru at her childhood home. Unfortunately, she's not alone, and sun plus lack of rest finally catch up to Saito. The chapter continues to follow Saito's POV on the events at the Yukimura Clinic, and takes a peek at the other side of bloodlust and resorting to drinking blood.

**Author's Note:**

Written for  **Saichifest 2018** , more or less for the prompts  **Moonlight/Courage**  (Day 1) [SaiChi],  **Respect**  (Day 2) [Saito-Amagiri BrOTP] [with a slight tip of the hat to the prompt  _Sake_ ], and  **Spoken/Unspoken**  (Day 3) [SaiChi].

This story follows directly after  **Part I—Fear and Courage**.

Originally, I'd intended each part of this story to be a 500-1000 word piece like  **Part I—Fear and Courage**. Unfortunately, I couldn't seem to stop writing once I'd started, so this happened. From time to time, I like to indulge my curiosity—if I can call it that—and write interesting parts of the canon (game) stories from the other point of view. I hope that you enjoy the results.

~  _Impracticaldemon_

* * *

**Part II—An Officer and a Gentleman (Plus One Mad Scientist and a Lady)**

* * *

**(i) Burning Sun**

It was not a short walk to the Yukimura Clinic, located as it was near the outskirts of Edo. By the time that Saitō found the small community, and then the modest home, he felt as though the sun was starting to course through his veins along with his tainted blood. Despite a well-deserved reputation for stoicism, Saitō had to concede that the sensation had gone beyond discomfort, although it was not yet at the level of full "bloodlust", as Sannan-san and Heisuke termed that brutal phenomenon.

Saitō had now suffered through bloodlust once, and had been thankful that he had been alone, and that the bout hadn't lasted long. He had avoided telling anybody, since he suspected that the Vice Commander would require him to either sleep during the day, or join the Fury Corps. Since he found being awake during the day mostly tolerable, he saw no reason to increase the burden on Hijikata-san by working only at night. The Shinsengumi leadership was too under-staffed as it was. Hijikata-san knew that he was a fury, of course, but as long as he didn't draw attention to the fact, everyone seemed content to let him continue in his position.

As Saitō approached the Yukimura Clinic, taking in the general disrepair of the front walk and the garden, his thoughts drifted briefly to Sōji, who now resided at Matsumoto-sensei's clinic instead of with the Shinsengumi. It had become something of a warning sign for him, this occasional lapse in concentration; it meant that he needed a break from the direct sunlight, at least, although rest would be better. Sōji seemed to figure often in his thoughts these days, especially in those rare moments when he allowed himself to notice how stretched-thin he felt.

His mind instantly snapped back to the present when the door flew open and Yukimura came stumbling out, eyes wide with panic. Just a step behind her was Yukimura Kōdō-san, the missing creator of the  _ochimizu_. Saitō rushed forward, sword clearing it's sheath with a soft metallic sigh. Without an instant to spare—his task would be much harder if Yukimura were apprehended by the mysterious doctor—Saitō yelled at Yukimura to duck, and swung at her pursuer.

Fortunately, Yukimura ducked—that made things easier; unfortunately, Saitō's blade failed to connect with Kōdō-san. Aches forgotten, Saitō took up a protective stance between Yukimura and her father—her false father, if the Oni Sen-hime were to be believed. He could sense Yukimura get to her feet behind him.

"Saitō-san!"

"You should run, Yukimura," he told her calmly, measuring Kōdō's aggressive posture and almost—crazed?—expression.

"But Saitō-san—"

"Stay behind me then, and do not interfere."

"You will obey your father, Chizuru. I did not raise a disrespectful child." Kōdō didn't move, obviously still assessing his new opponent, but his tone was sharp. "Come here at once!"

"I-I don't know who you are, Father!" Yukimura was plainly agitated. It was an odd thing to say, but there was no doubt a reason. Saitō had found that Yukimura followed a certain consistent internal logic. While he didn't always understand her, neither did he find her capricious.

"I haven't changed, child. Come now, it's time for me to show you your wonderful future!"

"Yukimura Chizuru is under the protection of the Shinsengumi," Saitō stated flatly. "I also have orders to bring you—Yukimura Kōdō-san—to Hijikata-fukuchō and Sannan-sōchō to answer questions."

Kōdō-san smiled politely at him. "Let's see now… Saitō-kun, was it?"

Saitō continued to regard him steadily. He did not trust this man in the slightest, and Yukimura's agitation confirmed that there was something wrong. She'd been looking for her father for years now, and had persisted in her belief that the man who had raised her could not have understood the true horrors of the  _ochimizu_. The Shinsengumi leadership—cynical to a man, with the possible exception of Kondō-kyokuchō—had no such illusions. Even Heisuke harboured the darkest suspicions about the man.

When Saitō's sword remained an uncompromising barrier between them, Kōdō frowned. He might be in some trouble with Kazama-sama, for having ventured out against orders (and found by the Shinsengumi dogs), but a great deal would be forgiven if he brought Chizuru with him.

Saitō heard Yukimura's disbelieving cry of horror when Kōdō's features suddenly seemed to contort and change. The mild brown eyes now glowed pale gold, and sharp white horns protruded from the man's forehead. His sudden grin displayed pointed canines, and both expression and posture reflected contemptuous arrogance. Even as Saitō's stance shifted to full combat-readiness, thin knives appeared as if by magic between Kōdō's fingers.

"You will now witness the glorious strength of the Oni! Before, I had no access to true power. I am no pureblood like Lord Kazama—or like you, Chizuru. But now, my full potential has been unleashed!"

"Father! You've taken the  _ochimizu_? But that's—that's terrible!"

Knives flew at Saitō even before Yukimura—his foster-daughter?—had finished speaking. Despite the short range, Saitō deflected them with ease, remaining solidly between Chizuru and Kōdō. With a hiss of annoyance, the former doctor tried again. And again, Saitō deflected the knives without moving more than his arm and blade.

As the Shinsengumi had found out for themselves, the  _ochimizu_  conferred speed and strength—and near-instant healing—but not skill. Serizawa Kamo, originally joint-Commander of the Shinsengumi, had been a brute, both as a man and a leader, but he had been a phenomenal warrior. Once he had taken the  _ochimizu_ , it had required several of the current Shinsengumi's strongest officers, and Hijikata-san's best effort, to take him down. Kōdō might be strong and fast, but he was no match for a swordsman of Saitō's ability.

"…Foolish," noted Saitō, in his usual uninflected tones, when Kōdō drew forth yet more knives. He prepared to attack as soon as he had dealt with the incoming knives.

Disaster struck with the third volley. Saitō remained unhurt, but one of the knives ricocheted back into Kōdō, leaving a long gash that bled freely before beginning to close. The scent of the fresh blood hit Saitō like a tidal wave, leaving him bludgeoned and reeling. The racking pain that he had been keeping at bay exploded within him, and his hands and legs started to tremble. He felt sweat spring up on his forehead as he fought for control.  _I am master of myself! Ignore the scent, ignore the pain. Protect Yukimura!_

"Ahhhhh. I see now. You have drunk the  _ochimizu_ —you are already a  _rasetsu_."

Saitō felt the tip of his katana waver drunkenly, as all of his effort went into remaining upright.

"Saito-san," Yukimura whispered nearby, in obvious distress. More distress than fear, noticed some part of Saitō's brain. She always did worry too much about him. It didn't… really… make sense.

With gruelling effort, he brought his blade back up to a guard position.

"My condition… is none of your… concern," he ground out in response to Kōdō.

The doctor-turned-demon cackled in triumph. It was a weird, inhuman sound, and made the situation even more bizarre than it already was.

"I'm surprised you're still standing, Saitō-kun. The sun is very bright and hot today, isn't it?"

It was. Saitō's very skeleton now felt as though it were on fire.

"And the scent of blood is so strong, so wonderful. Don't you crave it? You must. The  _ochimizu_  is poison to your frail, human body, and you need blood to ease your pain. The agony is probably driving you mad even now—your body lusts for blood, and your mind is both appalled and desperate to taste it."

He was right. Mostly. Saitō blocked out the words, fought the relentless need to lurch forward and take the blood he needed to end the pain.  _This is endurable. It must be endured._  Instead of falling to his knees as Kōdō probably expected, Saitō's hands tightened on his sword. He would  _not_  let this man take Yukimura. He would  _not_  lose to the enemy within him.

"Kōdō." Suddenly, there was another Oni present. The deep voice, and massive frame, were all too familiar to Saitō. His eyes might struggle a bit with colour in the daytime now, but the softer light of the moon would show neatly-tied, dark red hair, and cool, summer-blue eyes.

"Lord Amagiri," murmured Kōdō, sounding shocked, even as Saitō thought the name.

Amagiri-san's presence most likely presaged disaster. The powerful Oni would have little difficulty either incapacitating or killing Saitō, in his current condition. But… there was still a vestige of hope. At the very least, Saitō would die fighting an honourable warrior, somebody who would understand who Saitō  _was_.

"Kōdō. You must return at once. Kazama-sama did not sanction this venture."

The bigger Oni examined first Chizuru, then Saitō. His understanding of Saitō's condition was instantaneous, but silent.

"My lord! This man has drunk the  _ochimizu_! He is a  _Fury_! We should make sure that he is no threat to us or our plans."

Even semi-blinded by fierce sunlight, Saitō saw the look of undisguised anger and disgust that Amagiri-san turned on Kōdō. Although the outcome was still not certain, that look gave new life to hope.

"I  _said_  that you are to return  _at once_. Kazama-sama will be very displeased with you if he finds out that you have upset Yukimura-sama. Even if you did raise her."

The ensuing silence seemed very long to Saitō, whose body felt as taut as an overdrawn bowstring. He was on his feet, his sword was more or less steady, and Yukimura was safe behind him, but he knew that he didn't have long before collapse. A warrior knew his own body.

Kōdō was clearly on the verge of arguing further with Amagiri-san, when the latter turned his gaze on Saitō. The pale blue eyes seemed somehow… regretful.

"Regardless of any action, or desire, on our part, this man is likely to fall victim to his condition soon enough. Because he is human. Because he is a  _Fury_." Amagiri's voice was soft, but edged; his words were clearly directed at Kōdō.

For a moment, Kōdō looked taken aback, as though some part of Amagiri-san's implicit accusation had reached him. In that moment, Saitō thought he glimpsed the father that Yukimura seemed to remember—the man that he himself had never seen. Then Kōdō's features hardened back into implacable lines. He nodded curtly to Amagiri-san, his obedience a matter of yielding to a greater force, rather than loyalty, or agreement. The two Oni plainly held nothing but contempt for each other. Saitō felt Amagiri-san's regard on him one last time, and with it that same sense of regret, and then he and Yukimura were alone in front of her former residence.

* * *

**(ii) Healing Moon**

The worst of the immediate pain faded then, as most of Kōdō's blood was on the man's clothes. Saitō sheathed his katana, unable to conceal his relief. Then he turned to Yukimura, scanning her for any sign of hurt. She was visibly upset, which was to be expected, but her first words were—as usual—for him.

"Saitō-san, are you hurt?"

" _Īe._ " His firm negative failed to soothe her.

"Then are you ill? Or—of course, the sun is very strong!"

"Yukimura, why did you leave the compound?" Saitō's tone was deliberately harsh. "If it had been Kazama who had arrived instead of me"— _or Amagiri-san_ —"then you would have been taken. Why do you think I stay awake during the day? It is not pleasant." That was unfair, a little, but he was finding it harder than usual to ignore the pain.

Yukimura looked stricken, and bowed her head. "I'm sorry, Saitō-san! I apologize for causing you trouble."

"I do not require your apology. I require your explanation."

She straightened, biting her lip. She was blinking back tears, and it came to him suddenly that despite all that had happened, she was most upset because he was angry at her. His expression was no doubt forbidding.

" _Hai_." Yukimura's hands twisted together in front of her. "I-I wanted to search the house for any notes that might provide information about the  _ochimizu_. About the Fury transformation really… and how to suppress the side-effects."

"Did Sannan-san ask you to do this?"

"N-no."

"Then why?"

Unaccountably, Yukimura's embarrassment seemed to deepen. "I wanted to help. Because you seemed to be in so much pain, Saitō-san."

Saitō felt his eyes widen, as his expression went from angry to startled. "I did?" He forced his features back to impassivity, so that they would show neither anger, nor surprise. Nor, he hoped, pain.

"Well… yes? It's bad enough that you don't sleep, but you stay awake all day, and I can see that it's—that is, there is  _discomfort_."

Before Saitō could formulate a response, Yukimura squared her shoulders in the way that she always did before speaking her mind in spite of fear or anxiety. Sure enough, she eyed him a little shyly, but added: "Being physically uncomfortable, or in pain, is very tiring. I saw that a great deal when I was growing up. People got better much faster, or at least had more energy, when we—I mean—well, when their bodies were more at ease. So you see—"

"I see." Saitō looked down, both to rest his eyes, and because while he understood her point in a general way, her actions still seemed extreme. Unless she—but that line of thinking was both irrelevant and unproductive. "I left the compound unattended. Do you have further business here?"

Silently, she shook her head. Saitō found it difficult not to respond to the slight hurt in her eyes, but it was better that she learn not to worry about him so much. There was no need, and he still wasn't sure of her motives.  _No? Really?_  He ignored his own mocking thoughts—which always took on Sōji's voice these days—and turned to go.

" _Ikuzo_ , Yukimura."

He set off at a moderate pace, and she followed obediently. Three paces, four, five… _No, gods, NOT NOW!_  But the gods weren't listening. Saitō's legs folded under him, and his body convulsed with wracking pain. He clenched his teeth against the cries that sought to escape, and bowed his head until the first wave passed and he could master himself again—at least a little.

"Saitō-san!"

"I… I will be fine. It will pass." His voice rasped and the gasping breaths were unlikely to be reassuring, but he put everything he had into hiding the full extent of his agony. He knew that he had changed into one of  _them_ , into what he now was. White hair, red eyes; he'd seen it for himself, the last time. But what to do?

"We should go indoors. That will help, at least a little. Please come with me, Saitō-san!"

She was pleading, but it was unnecessary. Going inside, out of the sunlight, out of sight of passing pedestrians, was the only logical thing to do now. He couldn't bring himself to lean on her—wouldn't—and she seemed to know that. Instead, she made sure that his path was unimpeded, and guided him, somehow, into her home.  _Former_  home, some strange part of his mind insisted, but he didn't have enough energy to care why.

Once inside, Saitō found a space that had been recently tidied, and knelt with as much grace as he could muster—not much, he suspected. It was worse than the last time. It felt as if his body were being continuously broken apart and knit back together; it was excruciating. His right hand scrabbled at the left breast of his kimono, as though he could somehow tear the pain out of himself and find relief.

He saw movement from the corner of his eye, and then Yukimura knelt across from him, so close that they were practically touching. He became suddenly, agonizingly aware of the blood that flowed beneath her soft skin. His eyes fastened on the pulse point of her throat, and it took all his will to look away.

"Yukimura… This will pass. Do not… concern yourself." Laughable reassurance, but what else was there? He wanted her to go. Perversely, he also wanted her to stay. He would conquer the pain, outlast it, whether she was there or not. But it would be—and this made no sense—less lonely with her there.

"Take my blood. That's what you need, isn't it? Blood?"

She was even closer now; her scent seemed to surround him. After a moment, he realized that she'd taken his hand and was peering into his face. Their knees were touching. Whether truth or fancy, he saw himself reflected in her wide, anxious eyes—the gleam of white hair, like moonlight on dark water, and two sparks of glowing crimson.

"You are… overreacting. As I said… this will pass. Then we can return."

Her mouth tightened into a straight line. He had never seen her gentle face so uncompromising. Had he looked like that when he tried to keep Kōdō from her? Or Kazama? His fingers dug desperately into his chest; he could feel his nails even through his kimono and sweat-soaked under-kimono. His blood stung and boiled under his skin. His bones continued to stretch and crack and reform; he assumed—hoped—that this was just how he visualized the pain. It was endurable because it had to be endured.

Saitō felt Yukimura's hand lift from his and had to stop himself from reaching after her. It was no doubt better this way, somehow. The sound of a blade leaving its sheath immediately drew his attention, and he stared as Yukimura touched the well-sharpened edge of her  _kodachi_  to her finger. Blood instantly welled up from the cut, viscous and red. He swallowed convulsively.

"Saitō-san. Please… This cut is nothing—I'm an Oni, it will heal quickly. So take what you need."

_This is wrong. This is not what I want. I want… I want to protect you._  His thoughts were confused, almost incoherent. He forced his gaze away from her bleeding finger, trying to think rationally. Rationally, it made sense. Blood would allow him to function more efficiently. According to the little—the very little—that Heisuke would say on the subject, those who drank blood remained in control of themselves for longer and with less effort. However, something in what he  _hadn't_  said suggested that there was a price to pay. Also, if it was the pain that drove furies mad—and the constant anticipation of pain—then surely a strong man, who wasn't afraid of pain, could do well enough without blood? But… almost everyone broke under torture, eventually. Saitō was uncomfortably aware of that truth.

He finally met Yukimura's eyes again. She wasn't afraid—not of him, not of what he might do. She wanted him to do this. The combination of that determined—almost affectionate?—gaze, and practical reality, decided him.

Oddly, the ache in his body seemed to fade a little just by making the decision. Awkwardly, feeling all the strangeness of the situation, Saitō lowered his mouth to Yukimura's finger. He tentatively tasted the blood, and had to pause a moment to contain the rush of feelings and sensation. It was tremendously disconcerting, and he automatically sought to conceal his reaction. His body craved the blood—and it was sweet beyond words, her blood. But there was more to it than that. It was as though he hadn't quite realized how intimate this was. He—

"Saitō-san?"

He raised his head immediately, once more searching her expression. Yukimura looked puzzled and concerned. Her cheeks were flushed, but he lacked the perception just now to divine the reason. Was she in pain?

"Does it hurt? Your finger?" His voice was raspy, but sounded moderately polite, and only a little more uncertain than usual. Good.

"Oh—no, no, not at all!" She smiled at him, and he immediately forgave her the lie. Why shouldn't she be allowed the same pride as any other? "But, um, you stopped."

"I see." He gently took her hand in his, and once again pressed his lips to the cut. This time, he was better prepared, his emotions better-controlled. Bit by bit, as he carefully sucked at her finger, the worst of the pain subsided. It made it more difficult to ignore other sensations, and he hoped that she wouldn't be able to tell how arousing this was—to be so close, to be sharing something so private. He kept his eyes mostly closed, so that he wouldn't accidentally meet her gaze and embarrass them both.

As soon as he could bear to stop, he forced himself to allow the cut to heal completely, and slowly lifted his mouth from her small hand. It wasn't the blood that was so difficult to give up, although the Fury within him would gladly have taken more, it was the touching. The whole time that his lips had been against her skin, it had seemed as though they were in their own safe, quiet place—a place of moonlight, and cool night air, and soft colours. He couldn't understand it, and it bothered him. He had come to guard her, and yet she had been his refuge in a way he couldn't explain.

What's more, there was nothing muted about the way that his heart was hammering in his chest. The coil of tension low in his abdomen, and lower still, was all heat. It wasn't an unknown sensation, but neither was it entirely familiar. Saitō strongly preferred  _sake_  to other outlets for stress, and on the rare occasions that he had been troubled by lust, it hadn't been especially difficult to set aside in favour of drills, or meditation, or drinking. Drinking provided the illusion of intimacy without requiring the real thing, physical or otherwise. And yet he here was, caught up in the desire for both physical and emotional comfort, or something like it. His mind presented possibilities for tongues and lips that had nothing to do with his condition as a Fury.

He turned away as he let go of Yukimura's hand, and forced himself to accept what had happened as no more than a rational response to necessity, followed by understandable embarrassment. It was a strange situation, after all, so it made sense that it had elicited unusual reactions. An important measure of calm returned as he straightened scarf, kimono, and sash; later, he would change the sweat-soaked under-kimono. A quick glance at the low pony-tail on his shoulder confirmed that his hair was no longer white. Then he faced Yukimura, although he wasn't quite sure what to say.

Her expression was at once shy, flustered, and determined. He had no idea what she was thinking.

"How is your finger, Yukimura?" Idiotic, perhaps, but at least reasonably conventional. He wished again that she hadn't witnessed his struggle with the bloodlust. He suspected that he was blushing, and found himself looking away.

"Oh, it's fine! Really!" Bright words, and this time mostly truthful. She wasn't in pain, but he could tell that she was—they both were—distinctly self-conscious.

After a moment's thought, he looked back at her, shoved aside the strange desire to take her in his arms, and reiterated his most pressing concern.

"I left headquarters unattended by any command-rank officer. We must go."

Yukimura blinked, no doubt taken aback by his curtness. He **—** once again **—** regretted the slight hurt in her expression, but it was better than how she would look at him if she knew that he had contemplated far from honourable possibilities.

"Alright, Saitō-san. As long as you have recovered enough?"

"I am fine."

She gave him one last, doubtful look, and then nodded. In response, Saitō pushed open the door, and stepped through into the burning heat of the sun. Fortunately, it was nowhere near as difficult to bear as it had been before. He glanced over his shoulder at Yukimura as they hurried away from her childhood home. She looked a little wistful, and he assumed it was sadness over Kōdō's cruel behaviour—after all, she had waited a long time for their happy reunion.

He would have been very taken aback to know that her thoughts were entirely on the indigo-haired man walking just ahead of her. Whatever happened, she was determined to do her best for him. Saitō-san had come to mean the world to her. Maybe one day, she would find a way to tell him so.

**[END]**


	5. The Road to Tokyo (or, The Ghost Chapter 3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows directly from the Chapter "Reassurance", found in this collection.

**Author's Note:**

I decided to add some more to last year's story about Chizuru reuniting with Saitou after being told that he'd died in Aizu during the war. The story is technically an AU, as it doesn't follow any of the canon good or bad endings for Saitou's route in the game. I note that, unlike in real life, I have had Saitou keep the name he had with the Shinsengumi post-imprisonment.

This is, in part, a promo-teaser-trailer for the upcoming SaiChi & Friends event that I'm co-hosting on tumblr. I hope you enjoy it!

~ Imp

* * *

**The Road to Tokyo  
(or, Chapter 3 of "The Ghost")**

* * *

Saitō stayed with Matsumoto-sensei and his wife for a week. Chizuru knew that he would have preferred not to impose on their hospitality for so long, but it wouldn't have been fair of her to leave without at least a few days' notice, and she was determined not to let Saitō leave without her. She'd found it difficult to sleep the night of his arrival—and every night since—for fear that he'd have vanished in the morning. Her emotions were still very near the surface, despite her best efforts, and she hated the way they seemed to swing from joy to fear almost at random.

Her conversation with Matsumoto-sensei about her decision to travel to Tokyo had gone better than she'd expected. She'd worried that the doctor might be upset, or even insulted, that she would choose to leave the security of life at the clinic for the uncertainty of travelling to the new capital without knowing what awaited. She'd also worried that he might—in her best interests—insist that Saitō's protection would be insufficient, or even improper. After all, it was a long trip to undertake with a man that she hadn't seen in two years, especially one who was neither relative, nor husband.

Her fears had proven largely unfounded, to a large extent because Saitō had evidently already considered the situation and decided on a course of action. The day after his arrival, Chizuru had found him in the kitchen preparing tea, even though it was very early, and Chizuru had been there to start breakfast. In retrospect, she realized he'd been waiting for her, although how he'd known she'd be there was unclear.

It had been an awkward moment, since Saitō had gone silent after the first polite greetings, and Chizuru had been forced to turn away to conceal tears of relief that he wasn't just some kind of delusion. That's when Chizuru had discovered that the tea was almost ready, and for some reason she'd frozen completely, unable to think coherently, or move. Saitō had gently turned her to face him at that point, although he'd remained mute for several more seconds before voicing—or at least introducing—his proposal.

"Yukimura-san, are you still of the same mind—that is, will you still accompany me to Tokyo?"

"Yes… yes, of course, Saitō-san. And please—please use my first name. I would prefer it." She hadn't thought to mention it the day before, when there'd been so much else to think and feel.

"…Chizuru-san?" She'd indicated no, that still wasn't quite right, and he'd finally managed, "Chizuru?" The extreme hesitation in his voice had made her want to laugh, but amusement had been immediately doused by sadness. She still mourned those who had used her name almost from the beginning: Heisuke-kun, of the bright smile and kind heart, and Harada-san, who had comforted and protected her, and Okita-san, who had mocked her, and pushed her—in good ways and bad—and needed her care. Fortunately, Saitō had continued almost at once.

"Would it be acceptable to you—do you think we might—for now—make a promise to marry?" He'd been visibly embarrassed, which was unlike him, and his voice had been almost too quiet to hear by the end. When she'd stared at him, bereft of speech, his colour had deepened even further, and he'd hurried to explain his sudden question. "I wouldn't ask—I know it's much too soon—except that it might make things easier with Matsumoto-sensei, and… in general. With officials, and others. For travelling, and so on."

Chizuru had been flustered, and undoubtedly just as red-faced as Saitō, but her answer hadn't been in doubt. She'd tried to make up for her initial stunned reaction.

"Yes! I mean, yes it would be—more than acceptable—but… are you sure you don't mind?" Then she'd cringed inwardly at herself. Of course he didn't mind, since he'd asked. Saitō wouldn't say something like that if he didn't mean it. Would he?

"I don't mind… That is—thank you for agreeing." He'd seemed genuinely pleased, and Chizuru had marvelled that after all the time apart, and so much grief, neither of them had had a change of heart.

It had probably been comical, from the outside—two awkward individuals, trying to express happiness at the prospect of being engaged. They'd done better after that, though. Saitō had managed a rueful smile—but a smile!—and then they'd been in each other's arms, the tea-making forgotten while they held each other. It was a balm and a blessing that Saitō seemed less aloof now than before—Aizu had changed him, a little, or maybe he'd just had long enough to think it all through. Fortunately, nobody had walked in, or if they had, Chizuru hadn't noticed.

Chizuru had spoken with Matsumoto-sensei after breakfast. He'd expressed surprise over the engagement, and genuine regret that Chizuru would be leaving the clinic, but on the whole, he'd taken it very well.

"It's the first time I've seen you smile in a very long time, Chizuru-chan," he'd told her seriously. "And besides, I've gotten to know you rather well over the past two years. I wish I knew Saitō-san better, so that I could be sure that he would take care of you, but I'm certain that you'd ignore any warnings or admonitions I might give you at this point regardless, so I might as well be gracious about it. This way, I know you'll write to me, both while travelling, and when you reach Edo." Matsumoto-sensei hated referring to the new capital as Tokyo.

He'd teased Chizuru a little after that, but kindly, and he'd assured her that he'd help in case there was any dispute over the house. Best of all—and Chizuru had been overwhelmed with gratitude—he'd promised to write letters of introduction to two colleagues in Tokyo, certifying that Chizuru had worked with him and had solid skills in basic medicine, including familiarity with both herbal remedies and Western medicine. Between that, and possible contacts among her father's former patients, Chizuru now felt more at ease about not being a burden on Saitō once they got to Tokyo.

For his part, Saitō had said very little to Chizuru about his subsequent, rather lengthy conversation with the doctor. If it had bothered him to answer questions about his intentions toward Chizuru, as well as personal questions about the true state of his health and fortune, he hadn't let it show. Truth be told, Matsumoto-sensei had found him a little difficult to fathom. In the end, he could only hope that the impassive young man cared about Chizuru as much as the girl evidently cared about him.

* * *

On the day of their departure, Chizuru rose early enough to make breakfast for the doctor and his wife. They'd given her a home for two years, and she was grateful. She assured them that she would write whenever she could, and that she would pray for the safe homecoming of various relatives still held in custody by the Meiji government. Saitō thanked them as well, his formal bow expressing not only his personal gratitude, but the gratitude of the now vanished Shinsengumi. Matsumoto-sensei had been a loyal friend.

Eventually, Chizuru found herself passing through the gate at which Saitō had appeared just a week before. She was assailed by a feeling of unreality, and not long after, she found herself reaching for the back of Saitō's coat. He must have sensed her movement, because he turned immediately, looking concerned.

"Is there a problem, Chizuru?" He'd become better about using her name now, although it was still new enough to make her at once warm and a little shy.

"No, Saitō-san." When his blue eyes continued to search her face, she decided it would be best to be honest. "I am just… very happy to be here with you. Sometimes it still feels like a dream, and I get anxious that you might go away and not come back."  _Again_.

"I see." His face revealed very little of what he was thinking, but after a moment, he held out his hand. "There won't be many travellers on the roads, given the time of year. If you wish, I will hold your hand, so that you know I am with you."

Chizuru blushed at the unexpected offer. Tentatively, she took Saitō's hand. It was warm, despite the chilly air, and still noticeably calloused from so many years of using a sword. "Thank you, Saitō-san. I'm sorry for being so, um, strange about this."

" _Īe_. It is fine." He looked down at her, and she was reassured by the lack of either impatience or annoyance in his calm expression.

In the end, they held hands for most of the morning. It was so pleasant, and so reassuring, that Chizuru found herself tensing when they finally came across other travellers. To her surprise, Saitō kept his fingers firmly around hers, and showed no sign of letting ago. The older couple in the small ox-cart nodded politely to them, and if the man's eyes narrowed suspiciously upon making out the just-visible hilt of Saitō's sword, the woman smiled warmly at Chizuru, who immediately found herself smiling in return. She blushed when the woman winked at her, though.

Once the cart had gone by, and was slowly fading from sight behind them, she glanced up at Saitō, to find him looking pensive.

"Saitō-san?"

"…I believe that I will worry people less, now that I am travelling with you." Seeing that she didn't quite follow his train of thought, he added: "The roads are not very safe at the moment, as many were displaced by the war, and the northeast is still short of food. Also, the Imperial Army was large, and had its share of deserters; some of those men would not be welcome if they returned home." Chizuru sensed no particular contempt in Saitō's words, merely blunt assessment, but it was hard to know for sure what he thought.

"I'd heard that there have been bandits on the road to Edo," she said cautiously.

"Tokyo," Saitō corrected gently. "The difficulty is that I look like I could be such a person."

Chizuru was immediately indignant. "No you don't! And besides, you would never stoop to—to—robbing people! It's just—obvious!" She came to a full stop, in order to emphasize her point.

Saitō looked at her in mild astonishment, then smiled. "I had… forgotten. How you perceive things." He cleared his throat, as though trying not to laugh. "My appearance has improved over the past week, thanks to your care, and that of Matsumoto-sensei and his wife; however, I believe that a more, ah, a more  _nervous_  observer would find my age, attire, and weapon of concern."

Chizuru frowned. Thinking about it more calmly, she could see his point, although she felt that a person would have to be  _very_  nervous not to appreciate Saitō's true nature. His clothes might be a little worn, but they were neat—not to mention clean and mended now!—and perfectly tidy. As for general appearances, surely nobody could find fault with his features, which were rather elegant—if a little thin—and in no way like a ruffian's. Perhaps she should have worked up the courage to ask to trim his hair—

"Yukimura? Ah—Chizuru?"

She blinked back to full awareness with a slight start, and was embarrassed to discover that she was staring fixedly at Saitō, her hands clenched into determined fists at her sides. Saitō was looking self-conscious, and a hint of red in his cheeks suggested that some part of her thoughts must have been visible on her face. Her own cheeks started to burn, and that probably would have made things even worse, but just then there was a faint cry for help from somewhere behind them, and they turned in unison, Saitō's hand falling automatically to the hilt of his sword.

It was late morning—surely an unusual time for banditry—but with the cold, and the absence of other travelers, perhaps the ox cart had made a tempting target. More likely, it was an accident with the beast drawing the cart, or with one of the wheels. Either way, Chizuru turned to hurry back the way they'd come. Saitō immediately caught her shoulder.

"I will go first. Stay back, and be cautious."

" _Hai!_ " Chizuru reached unconsciously to touch the hilt of a sword that she wasn't wearing, and had to remind herself that she was no longer a page with the Shinsengumi. Saitō's hand remained on her shoulder for a moment longer, and then he was past her, moving so quickly that she wondered if he had retained some measure of his powers as a  _rasetsu_. Not that she'd be able to keep up either way, hampered as she was by her woman's clothing. At least she'd altered this kimono for travel, and wore leggings underneath against the cold.

It turned out that bandits could and did attack in daylight, when the roads were empty, and pickings were slim. Chizuru arrived in time to see one man holding a rifle, while a second stood guard over the ox-cart's owners with a drawn sword, and the third tossed items from the cart onto the road. The scene dissolved moments later, with Saitō's arrival.

They must have somehow missed his approach, she thought, as he effortlessly rid the swordsman of his weapon, knocked him sprawling, and put throwing knives— _he was carrying knives?_ —through the hand and leg of the man with the rifle. He then closed with the third man, who appeared to be reaching for a weapon—whether a sword or a firearm, Chizuru couldn't make out.

Forgetting Saitō's command to stay back, she rushed to the couple kneeling at the side of the road, noting with dismay that the man was badly injured. He had a gash on his head, and his arm appeared to be broken, but he was still conscious, and looking murderous, rather than panic-stricken. His wife was clearly in shock, and had been roughly handled; Chizuru saw a bruise starting to darken under one eye. Tears in her clothing, and bleeding scrapes, suggested that she'd been dragged from the cart with far more force than necessary, and Chizuru felt a surge of anger.

"Knew your man for a soldier, miss, but damned if I expected a hero." The injured man was still surprisingly calm, although the sweat on his forehead betrayed significant pain.

She dove hastily into her bag for first aid supplies, but a shriek from the trembling woman beside her brought her eyes back up anxiously to check on Saitō. The former Shinsengumi captain was fine—unlike his opponent—but the bandit that he'd had first disarmed had drawn a long knife, and was rapidly closing on Chizuru.

"Saw you two earlier," he growled, "an' I reckon your man would prefer ta keep ya in one piece."

"You're a fool to even try it," spat the ox-cart owner. "You're just going to get yourself killed."

"Shut it, you!" The bandit's hand had closed on Chizuru's collar, but he foolishly paused to aim a kick at the man taunting him.

Furious at the threat to use her against Saitō, and by the violence used against the cart owners, Chizuru snatched her scissors from the open medical supplies kit, and drove them as hard as she could into the bandit's closest leg. His agonized scream was cut off an instant later by a blow to the back of the head.

"Saitō-san!"

"Yukimura! Are you injured?"

They stared at each other over the bandit's unconscious figure. Blood was flowing freely down the man's leg, although Chizuru's blow didn't appear to have hit the artery, or any other significant blood vessel.

"She's fine, young  _bushi_ —though she's a lot more dangerous than she looks, it seems."

Chizuru immediately turned to the man and his wife in concern. "Oh! I'm so sorry—please, allow me to assist you! Your arm, and head—"

"What's she apologizing for?" the man asked Saitō, who gave a tiny shrug and turned away, his blue eyes not reflecting the calm he pretended. Chizuru might not realize it, but the blade in his hand had been aimed with killing intent. He'd changed his attack at the very last instant, and only because Chizuru had caused her assailant to fall heavily. She'd saved the man's life—from Saitō, at least.

Eventually, they left the cart owner with his arm splinted, and his head bandaged, and the woman with the worst of her scrapes seen to, and recovering from her shock. She'd thanked Chizuru repeatedly for her care, and praised her courage. She'd completed the younger woman's discomfiture by adding that Chizuru had obviously chosen a strong, useful sort of man, who should be up to producing fine children. Meanwhile, Saitō had held a low-voiced conversation with the woman's husband that covered such topics as not wanting to delay their journey to Tokyo in order to look after formalities and paperwork related to the captured bandits. Saitō had made it clear that he'd gladly forfeit any bounty for the sake of remaining anonymous and free to travel.

Once back on the road, Saitō had taken the opportunity to regain Chizuru's hand—and to express his disapproval.

"You should not have gotten so close," he told her flatly. "I was in no danger."

" _Gomenasai_ , Saitō-san." Chizuru hung her head. Now that the incident was over, she was feeling slightly sick—it had been a long time since she'd been in that kind of situation, and on top of that, she'd stabbed somebody. At the same time… if she hadn't been there, would the bandit have inflicted more harm on the nice couple before Saitō could subdue him? He must have been quite strong to recover as fast as he had from Saitō's initial attack.

They walked in silence for a bit, and then Chizuru was pulled abruptly from her thoughts when Saitō jerked her roughly into his arms and against his chest. It wasn't like him, and conveyed a great deal.

"…I should not blame you for my failure," Saitō murmured against her hair. "It has been too long since I tried to fight without killing, and I misjudged.  _Gomenasai_ , Chizuru—he should never have been able to threaten you."

Chizuru couldn't respond; she was being held too tightly against Saitō's dark coat. But it pained her to hear the self-directed anger in his voice, so she finally made the effort to free herself—at least a little.

"You were wonderful, Saitō-san! You rescued everyone! Please—please don't be upset with yourself. I'll be more careful next time." When Saitō's embrace loosened enough for her to look up at him, she made the effort to smile. "Thank you for not killing anyone. I know they probably deserved it, and I know that they might end up dying anyway – as criminals. But thank you."

Saitō studied her carefully, then released his hold. Chizuru shivered involuntarily at the lack of his of warmth, but she could hear other travellers approaching, and she knew that Saitō would be embarrassed to be caught in such an intimate pose—they both would, although privately she thought it might be worth it.

"Are you ready to go, Chizuru?"

" _Hai!_ "

"…We are no longer with the Shinsengumi; nor are we with the army."

"I know. But you're still Saitō-san. I can't help it." This time, her smile was unforced.

Saitō took her hand again, even though the other travellers were now in sight. "Let's go, Chizuru."

* * *

**[END]**

* * *

**A/Note:** Thank you for reading! I'm looking forward to SaiChi & Friends 2019 on tumblr from February 16 to 19, 2019. :) Also, please let me know if you'd be interested in seeing more of this particular "ghost" story.


	6. Interactions (The Ghost Chapter 4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this sequel to The Road to Tokyo (The Ghost Chapter 3), Saito and Chizuru get their first chance to really be alone together - aside from suspicious restaurant hosts and inquisitive innkeepers. No bandits. Kissing.

**Author's Note:**  This is Chapter 4 of the story  _The Ghost_ , a story that took on something of a life of its own (heh). This chapter was written for SaiChiFest 2019, which I am co-hosting on tumblr Feb 16-19, 2019.  All creative works for Saichi, or Saitou brotps, or (on February 18) any Saitou ship, are welcome! In the meantime, I hope you continue to enjoy this journey with Saitō and Chizuru.

~ _Imp_

* * *

 

 **Interactions**  
(or,  **The Ghost, Chapter 4** )

* * *

They hadn't talked about sleeping arrangements. Despite being officially promised to each other—and sometimes Chizuru wondered if she'd imagined that whole conversation—they hadn't really planned much about their future other than travelling to Edo— _Tokyo_ —and moving into Chizuru's former home. She couldn't help but think that other couples probably did more planning before deciding to—well, start a whole new life together. It was probably strange that she wasn't more anxious about everything, but truthfully, the only thing she feared was losing Saitō again. Which led back to her current dilemma. She wasn't quite sure how to ask to share a room, but she didn't want to be on her own either.

Chizuru stole a quick look sideways. In the past, she'd always been running to catch up, or trotting along a half-pace behind. Today, not long after their shadows had lengthened and blurred, and cool afternoon had slid into chill evening, Saitō had taken her hand and drawn her closer, offering silent support just as her steps had started to drag despite her best efforts. Two long, hard years lay still lay between them, as yet barely touched upon, but he was still as  _aware_  of her as he'd always been. In the past, it had saved her life.

"Chizuru." Saitō cleared his throat. "It would be better—safer—that is—tonight…"

"Saitō-san?" It was difficult to read his expression in the half-light.

" _Sumimasen_." They had come to the small town where they planned to spend the night, and Saitō stopped in front of the first place that offered food and ducked within, releasing Chizuru's hand. She hurried in after him.

The proprietor looked surprised to see them, as well he might. Thanks to the business with the bandits, earlier, they were arriving over an hour later than originally planned, and certainly later than most travelers would care to be out, given the cold and gloomy late-autumn nights. Chizuru saw their host's eyes flick carefully over Saitō, and sensed his tension rise as he took him the unmistakeable shape and size of a sword. She'd gotten more used to that reaction over the course of the day, but she still didn't like it. Saitō took it in stride, and he also ignored the whispers of a small group of locals in one corner.

" _Konbanwa_ ," he murmured, bowing politely, but without conceding his dignity as a patron. "If it would not inconvenience you, could you please bring a meal, and tea? We were delayed on the road."

The man hesitated, and then bowed in return. "Of course, sir. I will bring the tea immediately, although if you would prefer  _sake_ , please let me know. I don't serve  _sake_  in an official way, but there's nothing to stop a man from sharing his own stock."

Chizuru was puzzled by the friendly offer, but Saitō simply nodded, and seated himself at the table closest to the door. He placed his sword on the tatami beside him and gave her a faint smile as she seated herself on his right.

"He will not charge me for the  _sake_ , but our meal will cost a little more. There is nothing unusual in it—it simply means that he knows those other customers well, and judges that you and I will not be here long enough to cause any trouble for him."

"I see." She gathered her courage. "Saitō-san—"

"Chizuru—"

She hastily gestured at him to continue, happy to defer asking her question regarding their accommodations. It still sounded overly-forward to her, although she'd already decided that any embarrassment was worth it to avoid leaving his side.

"I do not wish to presume upon our relationship," Saitō said carefully, "but I think it would be safer for us to share a room while we are travelling." Dealing with the host seemed to have settled his thoughts—he no longer sounded flustered. "I promise not to—to impose on you in any way."

"Oh—oh of course, Saitō-san! I'm glad!" In her relief, it came out all wrong, and Chizuru felt heat rise to her cheeks. "I mean, I'm glad that you won't leave me alone. And, um, I'm quite sure—that is, of course I'm not concerned about—about anything like that."

Saitō's expression shifted a little at that, and his eyes moved away from hers, but she couldn't tell what he was thinking. Had she offended him? She couldn't imagine how, and that didn't seem to be quite it.

In the end, the meal was decent, and as reasonably priced as one could expect in this time of short supply. Chizuru poured Saitō's  _sake_  with something very like wifely pride, and was delighted—no doubt another overreaction!—to see how pleased he looked at the small intimacy. It was endearing, and she had to look away in order to avoid displaying her feelings too openly for common courtesy. Eventually, the meal concluded, and their host had directed them to the inn recommended by Matsumoto-sensei.

The innkeeper had behaved much like everyone else: wary of Saitō, but courteous, and clearly somewhat reassured by Chizuru's modest appearance and demeanour. He relaxed even further when Saitō mentioned that Matsumoto-sensei had directed them to the inn, and asked quietly—and indirectly—whether the 'problems' besetting the Matsumoto family had been resolved. Chizuru was momentarily at a loss, but when Saitō replied that there were still one or two matters outstanding—most unfortunately—it occurred to her that an acquaintance of Matsumoto-sensei's would know the family's history as Bakufu loyalists. Some members of the extended family remained incarcerated by the Meiji administration in retaliation for their actions during the war.

After a few minutes, Chizuru realized that Saitō was becoming uncomfortable with the increasingly transparent questions about his experiences in the northeast during the war. Long used to trying to avoid prying questions, Chizuru didn't hesitate to feign even greater fatigue than she felt in order to bring the conversation to a quick close. She slumped a little against Saitō's side, and then blatantly interrupted the discussion with a sweet smile and a slew of rather incoherent apologies for her faintness. The innkeeper immediately escorted them to their room with an avuncular—if distressingly knowing—smile. Chizuru discovered that she didn't care and wasn't even embarrassed.

Once the man's footsteps had faded, Saitō surprised her by pulling her close and leaning his forehead against hers.

"Thank you, Chizuru. I—" His arms tightened around her, and although she couldn't see his face, she could hear the strain in his voice, and feel the tension in his body. She instinctively moved her head to rest in the hollow of his shoulder, and his embrace tightened almost to the point of discomfort.

Chizuru swallowed, suddenly overcome by a mix of concern and awareness of the way that their bodies seemed to touch at every point. Surely, she shouldn't be reacting like this when Saitō was in distress? But although she was genuinely worried, she could also feel her heart rate accelerate, and her body seemed to be growing warmer by the moment. She tried and failed to convince herself that it was because she still wore her coat, especially since the brazier was unlit.

"Saitō-san—"

Her words were cut off by a passionate, almost ruthless kiss. Heat flared within her as her beloved, once-mourned Saitō stole her lips and her breath, and left her trembling. Amazing how rational thought could vanish in an instant… She twined her fingers in his indigo hair, and felt his hands caress her back and waist and hips, while still holding her so close that it seemed she could feel every muscle in his chest and stomach and thighs. Her blood was pounding in her ears; she was gasping for air—or maybe for more of his lips and tongue and teeth. When he pressed his mouth to her neck she heard her panting breath change to something like a groan, and it shocked her back to some slight awareness.

How had she thought him calm? How had she missed that he felt this way—although she hadn't really, not since their first real kiss, in his guest-room at Matsumoto-sensei's. His body betrayed him, and she would have blushed if it had been possible to become any redder. And she… her voice held desire, she could hear it, and didn't know what to do.

"Chizuru." Of course, he stopped, mastered himself, shoved her away from him almost as abruptly as he'd kissed her in the first place. Of course. His voice was rough, but controlled. "I'm sorry. Please… forgive me. I want to deserve your trust, and I swear I won't… go farther."

"But—"

"We need time—both of us—I know that."

"But I—"

"It is fine. I'm just sorry… I did that." His breathing was almost normal again, and she couldn't see him well by the light of the one lantern.

"Saitō-san!" They were both a little stunned at the irritation in her tone.

"…Yes?"

"I wasn't complaining."

"I know."

"Then don't apologize as though there was something…  _wrong_ … with that… with us feeling like that." She really was embarrassed now, and it was starting to seep through the combined passion and annoyance. In a more level tone, she added, "I told you before—I'm not a child."

She heard him sigh, felt his arms around her shoulders again.

"I know."

"I… didn't mind. Not really."

"Chizuru. We can do better—I can do better—than this. Just"—he laughed softly, at himself, and at her—"stop thinking that I'm… not aware of you… in that way." The kiss he pressed to her bruised lips was gentle, but full of love.

"…I think I understand. But don't treat me as though I don't feel the same way." She tried to make her voice sound firm and grown-up, but in truth she was glad to have a bit more time to get used to this new relationship, this not-quite-the-same Saitō-san.

"I won't—I'll try not to. It's just easier sometimes… You are very beautiful to me."

She stretched up to kiss him, savouring the experience—of the kiss, of being away from any self-appointed guardians, of being wholly her own person. Of being with the man she loved.

They slept with their futons pushed very close together, and that was enough for today. Who knew about tomorrow, though?

**[END]**

* * *

**A/Note:**  Less drama, and no bandit attacks, but I felt that these two are bound to be trying to figure out their relationship on several levels. After all, Chizuru thought Saito was dead until just a week before. And Saito is a very cautious man, who just spent almost three years immersed in a hellish war, including almost a year as a prisoner of war. At the same time... they're roughly 21 and 25, they've been deprived of each other for close to two years, and (in my headcanon) they're both starved for physical affection. So hmm. Plus, they have to try to interact with the world around them. As always, your comments are very much appreciated. I apologize sincerely to those who were kind enough to comment on the last chapter (or Teachings of Demons) that I haven't gotten back to. I'm working on it! ~ Imp


	7. Dangerous Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern Japan (based) AU, university setting. Existing, but secret, Saito x Chizuru relationship.

**Author's Note:**  I have no idea where this story came from. Unfortunately, it nagged at me until I wrote it, which delayed other writing. Part of the inspiration came from a submission to  **Saichifest 2019**  (see the tag on tumblr, author  ** _nospringonions_** ), although that fanfic had a cleaner feel to it (not to mention a beginning, middle, and end).

This is one of my very few non-Shinsengumi-era stories, and is actually set in a modern Japan AU that has a slightly darker feel to it than something like SSL. Partial inspiration for the feel—and Saito's motorbike—go to  ** _kurokyoria_**.

As a final note, the entire second half of the story is more or less about sex. (shrugs)

~ Imp

PS Thank you as always to my readers for your words of encouragement, and for putting up with yet another delay to Teachings of Demons - the new chapter  _is_  partly written!

* * *

**Dangerous Connections**

* * *

"I found you a tutor, Hajime-kun!"

Saitō eyed his friend warily. That particular grin always made him nervous.

"Tanaka-sensei said that she would find somebody appropriate, Sōji. There's no need—"

"Tanaka-sensei has already approved my suggestion." Okita's smirk became even more pronounced. "She agreed that it made sense to get somebody who knew the club, and wouldn't mind working around your weird schedule. Besides, it turns out that Chizuru-chan was already on her list of candidates."

Saitō felt himself tense. "Yukimura? Sōji—that's—I don't think that's a good idea at all."

Okita laughed. "Worried you won't be able to concentrate? On the bright side, you won't want to embarrass yourself, right? I figure you'll be speaking and writing English like a pro in no time!" He punched Saitō lightly on the arm—lightly for Sōji, at least.

"There must be other—"

"Get a grip, Saitō! Your family said you had to pass your English competency exam, or quit the team." Okita's expression darkened. "And this year we're going to win the championship, so don't you dare let them force you to quit!"

"I don't intend to!" replied Saitō with rare heat. "You shouldn't have gotten involved in this."

"Oi, what's with you? I thought you'd be pleased. I'm pretty sure you've had a thing for Chizuru-chan for ages—and didn't you mention that your dad wanted you to find a suitable girlfriend? I mean, you're twenty now, and graduating uni in a couple of years, and—"

"Stay. Out. Of. This." Saitō turned on his heel and stalked off, shoulders rigid.

Okita was so surprised that he watched him go.

"Well that was weird—what the hell did you say to him?"

"Nothing he wanted to hear, apparently." It wasn't Heisuke's fault that Saitō was behaving like he had a poker up his butt, but Okita had to suppress an instinctive desire to lash out at the younger man. He didn't handle rejection well—he knew it, but that didn't make him any happier right now.

"Anything I can do to help?" Fortunately, Heisuke was reading the room for once, and didn't demand an immediate explanation. Okita grimaced inwardly. Heisuke was a good guy, and he'd matured a lot in the last couple of years—they all had, supposedly.

"Doubt it. Not unless you're in the mood to torture Hajime-kun for personal information?"

Heisuke stared at him, then waved his hands in an emphatic denial. "First of all, torture really isn't my thing. Second, I wasn't planning to die today."

"You saying I can't take Saitō?"

"MMMMFFFF." Heisuke pantomimed locking up his lips and throwing away the key. Then he ruined it by adding, "Who knows? Not me." He grinned at Okita. "I knows  _nuffin'_  guv'nah!"

"What the hell was that? As if your English isn't bad enough to begin with."

"Better'n yours and Saitō's, I hear."

Okita grimaced, then shrugged. "Doesn't matter to me, but Saitō's dad says he either passes the next time, or he's out of the kendo club—national championship or not. The guy's a hardass, too—if he says it, he means it. But we need that championship if we're going to get funding to go international." He scowled.

"Makes me glad I'm not the heir—or even runner-up heir—to some fancy corporation, for once.  _My_  dad just wants me to take his guilt money and lead my own life."

"Yeah, yeah. There are worse things, you know?"

"So I'm told." Heisuke bit back a snide rejoinder—Souji was always grouchy when it came to families. Besides, it reminded him what he'd come to say in the first place.

"I don't know if it's related, but I have some news for you. Bad news, and I wish Shinpat had found you first, to be honest. Assuming he didn't avoid you on purpose."

Okita gestured for him to continue, though he was still staring in the direction that Saitō had… gone.

"You know that pharmaceutical company that's been in the news so much recently?"

"No." Then Okita reconsidered. "Wait—yes. Hijikata was ranting about it yesterday, I think. Kondō-san kept having to calm him down—not that there's anything new in  _that_."

"Well, turns out they were into some  _seriously_ illegal shit, and even had some kind of stolen army biotech they were working on."

"So?"

"It was owned by Chizuru-chan's dad. In fact, her brother was the manager, at least on paper."

That got Okita's full attention.

"Well, shit."

"Anyway, nobody knows if they were set up, or who leaked the info to the cops—or the press—and so far it's hard to say who in the family knew all the details."

"There is no way Chizuru-chan knew about it, or was involved," Okita snapped.

"Yeah,  _we_  know that. But for now, the family, and everyone close to the family, is a suspect. And it gets worse."

"How?" Okita was already trying to sort out the kind of impact this could have on the club. Chizuru was close friends with all of them, and she acted as a kind of book-keeper and general secretary.

"Chizuru's dad made a substantial donation to the club, back when Chizuru started university. That's kind of why we got stuck with her in the first place, remember—not that  _I_  minded."

Okita remembered. "Fuck. FUCK!"

"Right? A club like ours—any sports club that wants to compete at the national level and beyond—can't be associated with illegal drugs. And these ones involve army tech, so..."

"Why the hell didn't Hijikata explain this to me  _yesterday_?!" demanded Okita.

Wisely, Heisuke didn't point out that Sōji probably hadn't been listening. Sometimes things were okay between those two, other times they weren't—as in,  _really_  weren't. At times like this, he envied Hajime-kun for not living with the rest of them.

Okita glared at Heisuke for not answering his question. "Fine. Where's Chizuru-chan?"

"We don't know."

"What?! How is that even  _possible_? She lives with us, for crying out loud!"

Heisuke took a half-step back, mentally cursing Shinpachi for setting him up to be the bearer of ill tidings. Sōji tended to hit first, ask questions later—well, not so much now, but still. Normally, they sent Sano-san to do stuff like this, but Sano was out of town for the week.

"We think she's either been taken away by her dad, or kidnapped by those Kazama thugs." Heisuke had to lean in to whisper the words, and Okita took the opportunity to grab him by the shoulders and shake him.

"Then what the hell are we doing just  _talking_  about it?! Why are we here at  _school_  instead of out looking for her?"

"I'm not gonna talk if you keep doing that!"

"Fine. Screw English class, I'm out of here. And I'm  _really_  pissed at Hajime-kun for not telling me all this earlier—he must have known."

"Our job is to go to school. Keep up appearances."

"Thank you for that, Hijikata-mommy-san. Sure, I'll do that." Without another word, Okita spun away from Heisuke, and ran for the main entrance.

Heisuke hesitated, then flung up his hands with a groan and sprinted off after him.  _Nobody_  was going to be happy when Sōji encountered the ladies and gentlemen of the press. And it wasn't Heisuke's fault that they'd trailed him here after Hijikata-san had slammed the house door in their faces.

* * *

Saitō's bike was expensive, but not showy, and it was a lot less noisy than most. That being said, he hadn't taken quite as much care as usual when he'd taken off from school after running into Sōji. Fortunately, he couldn't sense anyone watching as he methodically stowed the bike, and hurried through the parking lot door of his non-descript apartment building. On the face of it, he was just another young guy who'd probably forgotten something he needed for work or school. He'd done a good job of being anonymous here for two years; there was no reason to mess that up now.

He'd originally hoped to throw people off the scent by showing up for class as usual, but he just wasn't calm enough to pull it off. No matter how hard he tried, he still lacked the detachment and control of his father and grandfather—as they often pointed out. And  _ugh_. Sōji had meant it for the best, but Saitō had hoped to avoid  _anything_  that might link him to Chizuru except as a member of the club's championship kendo team. The Kazama had top notch intelligence gatherers.

He made himself take the elevator up to his floor—which wasn't the penthouse, since that was just too obvious for the scion of a wealthy corporate empire. At least he wasn't the heir, thank all the gods. He unlocked the door to his apartment, and then carefully locked and bolted it behind him once inside.

"Hajime-san?"

And there she was, waiting for him. His heart-beat picked up at the thought.

"Chizuru…" It was still a delight to use her unadorned first name, and to hear his own name on her lips. He knew he was blushing, but he couldn't seem to help it, or to suppress the inappropriate—very warm—images that caused at least part of the blush.

Without warning—except that he was trained to read an opponent's slightest movement—Chizuru threw her arms around him, and buried her head against his shoulder. He tried not to react to her sudden proximity, but his hormones had other ideas. She was obviously frightened, and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to gently lift her face to his, and kiss her. Not that they hadn't kissed before, but it was still so new to him—to them both—that he was immediately swept up in it, and didn't notice the passage of time until he realized that he had her pressed tightly against the hallway wall, one hand in her hair, and the other stroking the soft skin of her back under her blouse.

When he tried to draw away, Chizuru clung to him, her lips nuzzling his neck. He could tell that she was embarrassed, but also determined to keep him close. If only he were better at rational thought when they were together like this! Then he could comfort her properly, while still being aware of his surroundings, and considering what to do next.

"Chizuru, we need to plan." She couldn't stay hidden with him indefinitely—though part of him wished she would—but the alternatives weren't clear. "I think it's going to get more difficult after today…" Not so much because of Sōji blatantly throwing them together, but because the press was out there now, and hungry for details. The Kazama family wouldn't miss the opportunity to seize Chizuru if they could find her, and he suspected that Kōdō was finally scared enough to accept the Yukimura-Kazama merger, and hand her over to them to seal the bargain.

Saito made another effort to put some distance between them, but thinking about Chizuru engaged to Kazama Chikage made him want to do anything other than let go. In fact, he wanted very much to forget about everything other than finding out how best to please his beloved—if still secret—girlfriend. His mouth dipped down to the tip of her closest ear, and he began to trace the outer edge with his tongue, which elicited an intoxicating, shivery kind of gasp from Chizuru. He felt his pelvic muscles contract in response, and blood rush down to harden him into full arousal. Without another thought, he pressed a hard kiss—almost a bite—into the side of Chizuru's neck, making sure that his teeth would leave marks.

"Hajime…" Chizuru's voice was a little rougher than usual, and her breathing had quickened. He tightened his hand in her hair, and forced her head up to look at him, so that he could admire the scarlet that now bloomed high on her cheeks, and the way her eyes seemed to glow as she warmed into passion. When he brought his mouth to hers, abandoning her ear and neck, and biting gently on her lower lip, she made another half-muffled sound of pleasure, but louder and more distinct this time. He found himself trapping her even more tightly between his body and the wall, and grinding himself against her, while his tongue parted her willing lips and began to explore her mouth, eventually so deeply that it felt like a flagrant expression of what he wanted to do with the rest of her body.

As if in response to that thought, he felt Chizuru's hands tug the tail of his shirt free of his jeans, so that she could caress his bare skin in the same way that he was touching hers. His father wouldn't be very impressed at how easily distracted he was, he knew, but something rebelled in him at the thought. His friends and colleagues pushed him to be more open; his father and grandfather demanded perfect stoicism. Only Chizuru let him be entirely himself—she didn't mind his silences, she trusted him to listen when she wanted to talk, and she never seemed troubled by his awkwardness. He was utterly in love with her.

Still kissing, they undressed each other, fumbling at buttons, and even occasionally snarling at layers that wouldn't cooperate with their need to be skin-to-skin. Saitō retained enough sanity to lift Chizuru into his arms and carry her to his small bedroom, which was surely a more private and appropriate place to communicate such desires. Not until he laid her down on his bed—hair loose, clothing wildly askew, love-bite darkening on her neck—did he fully process what they were doing, and freeze, appalled by how far he'd let things go. He immediately sat back, still straddling her hips, and forced his greedy hands away from her skin.

To his surprise, Chizuru smiled up at him, and reached out to run her own hand down across the muscles of his stomach to rest lightly on the tight bulge still constrained by his lower fly and boxer-briefs. The button to his jeans was already undone, although it had taken her some minutes to achieve this, earlier. He still wasn't sure whether the button had actually been difficult, or if she'd just been distracted by his lips on her skin, and on the thin material of her lacy bra. Her nipples had hardened intriguingly under the ministrations of his stroking, pinching fingers, and then tongue and teeth.

He stared down at her now, breathless and dry-mouthed with desire, blood pounding in his ears, but desperate not to injure her in any way. Her thumb rubbed gently, but attentively, at the head of his erection, and he flinched inwardly at the combination of the exciting, pleasurable sensation, and the vulnerable, loving,  _determined_  expression on her lovely face. It might feel wonderful, but it wasn't right—not when there was fear and sadness lurking behind her passion.

"Chizuru," he whispered, barely able to resist leaning forward into her touch, while forcing himself to keep his hands curled on his thighs, rather than caressing her breasts, or busy with the pale blue panties that lay visible below her loose, rumpled skirt.

"I want this, Hajime. You love me, you believe in me, and I want you to be the first, since I don't know what the future has in store for either of us."

"We'll stay together no matter what, I promise, if that's what you want. But don't—Chizuru, those are the wrong reasons—you must know that!" He hoped that his voice betrayed neither the effort it cost to be rational, nor his hurt at her lack of confidence. In him, in them, he wasn't sure which.

He read stubbornness—and true longing—in her eyes, and the set of her lips. She wasn't going to back down, not when she believed in what she was saying.

"Your father won't want an alliance with a disgraced family, we both know that. And the Kazama want me so that I can produce an heir to both families, Kazama and Yukimura, now that their victory is certain. A marriage, an heir—that will bring everyone into line, and keep our noble blood  _pure_." The last word was low and bitter. "Are you going to subject your family, and your friends, and all their dreams, to the inevitable retaliation? They—the Kazama—can be brutal, you know."

"My family can look after itself," he told her forcefully, trying and failing to ignore her insistent caresses. He shifted a little, then caught her wrists, pushing her down into the bed. "Don't offer yourself to me on such terms. I'll refuse." He wasn't sure he could, but he'd do his best.

Chizuru stared at him, clearly frustrated in every way, but also, maybe, a little hopeful. Or was he imagining it, because he wanted her so much, and needed her to want him back out of love and passion, not despair—or as part of some ridiculous, fatalistic goodbye.

"Hajime? I don't want you to get hurt. I love you. That's the only reason I would ever go to them—"

"I know, but  _this_ —" He swallowed, unable to do what he should, and just get up, and get his mind back on prioritizing her safety, and—and so on.  _Why couldn't things be simple? Why did he always_ think _too much?!_  He could practically  _feel_  Sōji's eyes mocking him for his indecision.

"I'm sorry," Chizuru whispered into the silence. "I was being selfish—to want this time with you. This is my fault—"

"Dammit—no!" He let go of her wrists and curved his hands around her cheeks to cradle her head. "Just… just don't go there." He bent down to kiss her fiercely on the lips, and was surprised to discover that his control was still pitifully weak. Desire reignited as he registered the heat of her skin against his bare chest, and felt her lips part beneath his. He heard her breath hitch—just as it had earlier—and then her arms tightened around him, pulling him fully against her, so that he barely had time to brace one forearm to avoid falling.

"I won't give up—"

"I won't let you go."

With little grace, but also no pointless self-consciousness, he freed them both from their remaining clothes, and gave himself over to kissing and teasing and caressing his beloved's body into heated, extravagant arousal. Inexperience didn't mean lack of imagination, and he'd imagined making love to her so many times before, often to his own chagrin. He kissed and tasted and left marks on her skin, and suckled her breasts, and ran strong, demanding hands along her sides and over her hips and belly and around her smooth backside. And he thanked her, in fervent, heartfelt whispers, for letting him hear her cries of passion, and for sharing her wonderful, sweet body with him.

Her scent was intoxicating—he hadn't realized how much it would affect him. When his explorations finally reached the damp, sensitive folds of skin at her centre, and his fingers started to learn the contours of her most private places, her soft cries became whimpers, and he saw her biting her lower lip so hard that he thought it might bleed.

"Chizuru…" He almost stilled his hand, worried for the first time that he'd somehow hurt her, in his ignorance, but when his fingers slowed, and he lifted his lips from the hard nub of one breast, her expression plainly begged him not to stop, and he felt her hips jerk so as to press her mound more firmly against his hand. Only a little while later, he found himself sliding his fingers within her, both elated and a little shocked by how much he wanted to do such things. His body was beginning to quiver with need and anticipation of release, and he knew that she could feel his hard length pressed tightly against her thigh, and perhaps even the slightly sticky fluid that had started to pool on her skin. Without conscious thought, he pressed his fingers deeper within her, and felt inner muscles tremble and contract against them. Abruptly, he wasn't sure how he was going to manage to hold back any longer. He pulled away from her uncertainly, aware that he'd become completely focussed on sensation.

"Hajime…" She said his name like a plea, and lust jolted through him.

"Chizuru, I… I…" He swallowed, so deep in desire that he couldn't form a proper question. When she reached out and pulled his mouth down to hers, kissing him passionately, his whole body twitched involuntarily, and he clung to her, feeling his climax starting to build out of control. He could only hope—though he was moderately optimistic—that he'd made his lover feel the same way.

He was incredibly grateful when Chizuru shifted her hips, and awkwardly, but without hesitation, helped guide him to her entrance. He took that as permission to finally surrender his thread-bare self-command and join with her, and a soft groan escaped his lips as he thrust into her, his hands moving to grip her hips as he rocked hard against her once, and then withdrew a short space before burying himself deep into her once more, savouring the way her tight, slick walls clenched and pulsed around his shaft. She was very wet, and she smelled of arousal and sex, and a strong wave of possessiveness swept over him along with the desperate yearning of near-orgasm. Unable to stop, he thrust into her again and again, listening to her moan, and feeling her writhe beneath him. Somewhere in the haze of adrenaline and pleasure, he promised himself to do more for her next time, since this time he seemed to lack the ability to do much more than ride a dizzying wave of physical sensation until he was coming hard and fast inside her, his seed spilling hot within her welcoming body.

They lay together for some time afterwards, without speaking, their bodies still joined, their skin sticky with sweat and still sensitive to the other's touch. Saitō was conscious that he had left numerous bruises and marks on Chizuru—some light, some deep—and he was embarrassed that he didn't fully recollect being so rough. It had also occurred to him, too late, that he probably hadn't been careful enough or gentle enough, given that it was her first time. Unfortunately, he didn't seem to be able to think clearly enough to express his concern just yet. He suspected he was smiling, and was a little worried that he looked smug.

Chizuru, on the other hand, looked… happy. More than happy. For some reason that Saitō couldn't fathom, she was gazing lovingly up at him through dreamy, half-closed eyes, and showed no inclination to have him move from where he lay. The only problem was that he felt a distinct inclination to make love to her again, but wasn't sure whether that would be either appropriate, or welcome. He'd never been entirely sure what women really thought about sex, having never had the opportunity—or courage—to ask. But… she really did look happy. And beautiful. Gorgeous, even. Although that didn't necessarily reflect how she felt.

"Thank you," he said, at last. It didn't begin to convey how he felt, but it was a start.

"Oh…" Chizuru looked startled, but then relaxed again and grinned at him. "You're welcome—I mean, thank you, too."

There was a lot going on, back in the real world. And somebody was going to track them down, probably either Sōji, or Hijikata-san, and probably sooner rather than later. Saitō tightened his arms around Chizuru.

"Remember, you promised."

"I know. No giving myself up just to protect everyone I care about—and especially you—from the anger of the most powerful family in the country."

He blinked. "Somehow you make it sound like I'm being selfish." Then, before it could even begin to turn into another disagreement, he added. "But even if I am—yes, that is correct. Also, to quote something either Sano-san, or Shinpachi, said one time: have a little faith, okay?"

Chizuru looked up at him with an unusually roguish smile.

"I have faith in your endurance…"

Saitō felt his eyes widen in surprise, and then Chizuru suddenly looked away, red suffusing her cheeks. Gently, he turned her face back toward his, and kissed her forehead.

"I'm sorry if I was too rough—I really am. I don't know what was wrong with me. But I'd be very happy to let you test my endurance, if you want to."

And if Sōji, Hijikata-san, or anyone else needed him in the next hour or two, then that was just too bad. Chizuru's well-being, and her good opinion of him, were far more important than a national championship, a potential rift with his father, or the threats of a family with distinctly dangerous business practices.

* * *

**[END]**

* * *

**A/Note:**  I also realized part-way through editing this (a rather rushed job, I'm afraid), that the background for  _this_  Saito is slightly based on that of the Saito found in an entirely different otome game. Huh.


End file.
